


Death Trap

by blondsak, seekrest



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Peter Parker, Buried Alive, Comic Book Science, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Presumed Dead, Protective Tony Stark, defenestrating canon as per usual, we killed Peter but only a little bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak, https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: It hits Peter in an instant - both fear and the recognition of where exactly he is as he closes his eyes.The last thing he remembers is staring into Beck’s eyes, menacing and arrogant just seconds before he’d sunk a needle right into Peter’s neck—Peter too shocked the villain was still alive to stop him in time.If the satin he can feel underneath his fingers and pillowing his head—not to mention the suit and tie that he’s dressed in—are any indication, Beck’s taunts were real.Peter was supposed to be dead.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 169
Kudos: 387





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iron_spider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iron_spider/gifts).



> Happy birthday iron-spider!!!!! We love you so much and hope you enjoy!

Peter’s eyes open to darkness.

He comes to with a start, gasping immediately only to freeze when he lifts his hands up - immediately confronted with the barrier that’s in front of him.

 _What the hell?_ Peter thinks, hands smoothing over the satin he feels under his fingertips - eyes struggling to adjust to the pitch black.

His heart is pounding in his ears, desperately trying to make sense of where he is and why he feels satin all around him as his hands start wandering around the space.

It hits Peter in an instant - both fear and the recognition of where exactly he is as he closes his eyes.

_Shit._

The last thing he remembers is staring into Beck’s eyes, menacing and arrogant just seconds before he’d sunk a needle right into Peter’s neck—Peter too shocked the villain was still alive to stop him in time. 

If the satin he can feel underneath his fingers and pillowing his head—not to mention the suit and tie that he’s dressed in—are any indication, Beck’s taunts were real.

Peter was supposed to be dead.

It was a perfect plan, a _stupidly_ perfect plan Peter thought - wondering just what the hell he’d been stabbed with that it would knock him out so thoroughly that even FRIDAY wouldn’t have been able to detect a heartbeat. 

Whatever it was, it had worked - Peter’s mind having put two and two together and recognizing that he was in a coffin like May and Tony had desperately hoped he wouldn’t be in for the past nine months, ever since he and everyone else who's been Blipped had been brought back.

He lets out a strangled laugh, pressing a hand to the side of his luxury tomb as a tear escapes - relief even despite his current predicament that he wouldn’t be one of the many who’d succumbed to the Soul Stone Sickness.

Peter’s eyes snap open at the realization that even if _he_ knew the truth, his friends and family didn’t - guilt and rage rushing through him in equal measure at the idea that he’d been “dead” long enough for them to mourn, for them to _bury_ him.

He clutches at the edges of the coffin, mind running a mile a minute as he considers his options. The watch that Tony had given him wasn’t on his wrist and his cell phone wasn’t in his pocket—understandable, considering that May and Tony thought he was dead. They would’ve kept the last remnants of him with them rather than buried six feet under the ground.

Peter has no sense of how long he’s been underground but it can’t have been too long, inhaling deeply and smelling the softest hint of rain in the soil above him - hearing the small pattering of it against grass and dirt.

Peter opens his eyes, determined and focused - a small question in the back of his mind if his plan would even work. 

He had to get out of there. He had to get back home— refusing to accept a fate that wasn’t his, a fate that for once in the universe signaled that Parker Luck wouldn’t always be out to get him.

 _They already think I’m dead_ , Peter darkly thinks to himself as braces his feet against the edge of the coffin - psyching himself for the onslaught of dirt that was above him and for the fight for his life he’s about to face. 

  
  


* * *

Tony and May sit across from each other in the penthouse in silence. Neither have moved nor spoken in hours, and they’re still in their funeral clothes, although Pepper somehow convinced May to trade her heels for slippers a few hours earlier.

Every few minutes Tony glances up, a comforting thought or a good memory of Peter on the tip of his tongue to share. But as with every time before, the words taste like the bitterness of Peter’s ashes on Titan did, and he can barely get more than a grunt out. May never acknowledges him either way, seemingly numb, her mind somewhere far away as she stares into her mug of coffee, long gone cold.

And so, without any distractions, Tony’s mind falls back into the abyss of the grief and guilt of the last few days. 

Of course, they’d had nine months to prepare for this possibility, to search for a way to prevent it even as the world slowly came to accept there might not be a way, not that it made things any easier. But not everyone gave up hope, and in that nine months Tony, Rhodey, Bruce, Helen, Carol, the Guardians, Strange, _everyone_ had searched for a cure for Soul Stone Sickness.

No stone—and Tony grimly chuckles at the irony of the saying—had been left unturned, and yet. Nothing had ever been found to save the unfortunate few of the Blipped who were randomly chosen to drop dead the midnight of their first birthday following the final snap and Thanos’ defeat.

And Peter had been one of them. 

He thinks back to the last time he saw Peter alive. May and Tony had both begged him not to go out on patrol the evening before his birthday, but Peter had been adamant. 

“Either it’s going to happen or it’s not,” he’d said to them gently. “But if it does… I want the last thing I ever did to be helping people. Please, you guys. Let me do this.”

Like so many times before, they had relented—something Tony would forever regret, even if logically he knew it wouldn’t have made a difference. It might have even been worse to watch Peter die in front of him, not that what had happened had been anything short of pure hell anyway.

Tony had been keeping an eye on Peter’s vitals all night, feeling more and more anxious as midnight neared. When at 11:58 they’d gone haywire he hadn’t been able to stop himself from intervening any longer—worried Peter’s nerves had finally gotten the better of him and led to a panic attack, and determined not to let him be alone _just in case._

He’d taken off in a suit toward Peter’s location while trying to call the kid, who of course wasn’t picking up. The baby monitor protocol didn’t exist in the Iron Spider, and so Tony would never really know what happened in those final minutes.

All he knows is that he screamed when ten seconds after midnight Peter’s vitals dropped to nothing, and again when he caught sight of Peter still in his suit on the roof of a random apartment building, splayed out and unmoving. 

Peter hadn’t reacted when Tony had grabbed at his hand, his arm, his face, nor did his heart restart when Tony ordered Karen to shock the kid, or when Tony did CPR, or when he simply shook Peter’s shoulders and yelled at him to _breathe, dammit!_

Peter hadn’t reacted because Peter was dead, one of the unlucky Blipped to die of the Sickness, and there was simply no universe in which Tony wouldn’t rage at the unfairness of it all. Peter had been so good, had fought so hard, had cared so much… why him? 

It was the same question Tony had asked on Titan as he’d stared at the last bits of Peter streaked in his palm, the kid’s blood all but literally on his hands. 

And once again, there was no good answer, though May had an explanation.

 _Parker Luck,_ she had said with a laugh that had turned into sobs when Tony had arrived at the Tower with Peter’s body, her voice going low as she added, _Leave us._

It hadn’t been accusatory—simply the request of a mother who wanted to be alone with her son for the final time—but Tony had felt a rebuke all the same. 

It was a failure that would never be wiped away, not this time. It would stay with Tony forever, just like _I don’t feel so good_ and the terror in Peter’s eyes and _I’m sorry_ had stayed with him until the moment he’d pulled Peter close during the battle. And even then, they hadn’t really left him—at least, not once some of the Blipped began dropping dead again that very night and the term _Soul Stone Sickness_ began being spoken in whispers and then soon enough, shouts and cries.

Sitting on the couch now, it occurs to Tony that perhaps Peter’s vitals going haywire hadn’t been a panic attack at all. Perhaps, just like on Titan, Peter had sensed what was coming. Had he thought about trying to get home to May only to realize it was too far away? Or to the Tower, also an impossibility by that point? Had he felt sick with the knowledge of his impending doom again? Had he apologized again, this time to nobody and everybody because Tony had so _stupidly_ let him die alone? And god, there was nothing worse than knowing you were going to die alone...

The thought propels Tony from his seat with a start, May not even reacting. He can’t have what he really needs right now—to hold Peter, an alive Peter—but he can do the next best thing. In a fit of near-panic he heads toward the bedroom hallway only to run into Pepper.

“Tony? Where are you going?” she asks softly, gently clutching his biceps.

“I need to see Morgan, Pep,” he says, trying to pull out of her grip but Pepper holds him tight. 

“She just finally fell asleep, Tony,” she says. “Can it wait until tomorrow?” Tony doesn’t reply, just looks at her pleadingly until she takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay. Okay. Just, try to be quiet and not wake her. She cried for Peter for the last hour, and I don’t think either of us can handle a repeat.”

“Thank you, Pep,” Tony says sincerely. He gives her a long, tight hug before she kisses him and sends him on his way. 

As requested he is very quiet and careful as he enters Morgan’s room, carefully sitting down on the bed before gathering her up—comforter and all—into his arms.

“Daddy?” a small voice mumbles tiredly into his neck.

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me,” Tony whispers, pushing down the sob that’s threatening to come up his throat. “Everything’s okay. Just go back to sleep.”

He rocks her back and forth until he hears her breathing even back out, and then rocks her some more just because. He couldn’t save Peter, but by god, he will keep Morgan safe. Anything less isn’t survivable, not anymore.

He’s not sure how long he sits there, lost in grief with only the tether of his daughter keeping him from losing it completely, when FRIDAY softly speaks up.

_“Boss, there’s something you need to take a look at.”_

“Not right now,” Tony wetly replies, squeezing Morgan minutely tighter.

_“With all due respect, boss, this really can’t wait.”_

“Is someone dead or dying? If not, it can wait.”

 _“No, but someone may be_ back _from the dead, and not for the first time.”_

Tony freezes. “What—what did you say?”

_“Please, boss, just come take a look.”_

Heart pounding, Tony carefully lays Morgan back down and tucks her blankets around her, smoothing her hair back from her face. He takes a few extra moments just to take in her presence, let it soothe the very worst of his grief, and then he stands up and heads out into the main area, past the living room where May still sits—Pepper stroking her hair and trying to comfort her—and into the kitchen.

“Okay, FRIDAY, what is it?”

Immediately FRIDAY brings up a hologram that shows what appears to be a video recording of a dark street.

_“This is from security footage of a business on Queens Boulevard, timed eight minutes ago. Watch the far right.”_

Tony stares with narrowed eyes, only to gasp when a figure jogs into view. “FRIDAY, pause it. Zoom in.”

FRIDAY does so, and Tony’s jaw drops. It can’t be, it _can’t_ be, but—it’s Peter. Peter, wearing the same suit May selected for him to be buried in, now rumpled and dirtied, and jogging—no, full on _running_ —down the sidewalk.

“This… this isn’t real,” he breathes out.

_“I assure you, boss, it’s real. I did all the checks.”_

“Oh god… Peter…”

_He’s alive he’s alive oh god Peter you’re alive you’re alive kid I’m so sorry I love you so much you’re ALIVE–_

Tony nearly faints but one question keeps him on his feet.

“But… but how? It’s not…. It’s not possible. He was dead.” Then quieter, more resigned. “He’s—he’s _dead.”_ And just like that, the reverie shatters, Tony’s hopes falling away only to be replaced with a deep rage he has rarely directed at anyone else but himself. “No, no. It can’t be. This—this isn’t Peter. This is somebody impersonating him by wearing a photostatic veil, or–or a fuckin’ doppelganger, who the hell even knows.”

FRIDAY lets the hologram fall away, only to bring up another street view. _“Boss, there’s other footage from the cemetery entrance, of Peter leaving–”_

“Don’t call that _thing_ Peter,” Tony seethes, body shaking with adrenaline and maybe a hint of shock. “That’s _not_ Peter, it’s some asshole trying to mess with me. Trying to mess with _May_ .” He has to bite back a yell of rage as he orders, “FRIDAY, call my suit to meet me on the balcony. I’m going to find this bastard and kick the shit out of them for even _thinking_ about doing this.”

_“Boss, I’m not sure that’s–”_

“FRIDAY, mute.”

Tony stalks toward the balcony doors, only pausing long enough to consider whether he should let Pepper and May know what’s going on. But he decides against it in the end. Better they don’t see that footage, don’t get that same flare of cursed _hope_ Tony had felt when Peter— _no, not Peter, it’s not Peter, it can’t be—_ first appeared on the screen.

No, Tony needs to take care of this quietly, or at least—take things somewhere quiet and deal with them there. Because whoever this asshole is, they’re going to pay for what they’ve done.

Tony will make sure of it.


	2. Chapter 2

The rage builds during the short flight to Queens from the Tower.

Deep down Tony knows that there’s nobody who would impersonate Peter to hurt May or his friends. They are too good, too kind. No, it has to be connected to him. Has to be because _he_ chose to care about Peter, to let him into his inner circle. To open Peter’s legacy up to this sort of damage, something Tony would never forgive himself for.

But the question remains, who, and why? It’s already soul-ravaging that Peter was dead— _and he is dead, he is, that’s not Peter, it’s not_ —but now someone had to exploit Tony’s grief just to, do—what, exactly? The only thing Tony could imagine was to cause pain in the worst of ways, with the most devastating of emotional violations.

Even then, it’s one thing to go after him—God knows he’s given the world plenty of reasons over the years—but May? And what if Ned saw that footage? Or Michelle? It would never leave them, just like it would never leave Tony. And even the possibility of that was frankly unforgivable.

It’s with that idea in mind that Tony hones in on the figure running through Queens, now in a narrow, abandoned alley just a few blocks from May’s place. Besides a few dumpsters there’s only one window and an old, rickety fire escape there, no prying eyes to see them.

He’s not sure what he expects when Peter— _no, not Peter, Not-Peter—_ looks up at the sound of the suit’s repulsors, but it’s certainly not a look of complete relief, the kid stumbling to a stop, gasping for air.

That alone tells Tony he’s on the right track. A mere jog wouldn’t have Peter panting like he is now, eyes wide and watching as Tony lands on the ground.

“Mr. Stark,” Not-Peter says, catching his breath. There’s mud caked in his hair and streaked along his cheeks, the attempt at deception so detailed it turns Tony’s stomach. “Thank god. Do you know if May’s home, I need to see her and–”

He’s cut off when Tony aims a gauntlet at him, letting loose a volley of blasts that the imposter with the kid’s face only just manages to dodge. 

The expression on Not-Peter’s face when he looks back up at Tony is a mix of shock and genuine confusion, and so like his Peter that Tony nearly takes a step back in the face of it. But once more he forces his heart to rebuild its fortifications, pushing down the grief to a place where it can be forgotten, replacing it with white-hot fury instead.

“Mr. Stark? Why–”

“Stop it. Just stop this damn charade,” Tony growls. “Tell me who you are and what the _fuck_ you think you’re doing, and maybe I won’t kill you.”

Not-Peter shakes his head, looking utterly baffled only for his eyes to go wide as if coming to a realization. He puts his hands out, moving them back and forth placatingly as he starts to walk forward. “No, Mr. Stark, you got it wrong. It’s me, I’m Peter–”

“Peter is DEAD,” Tony yells, shooting another blast right at Not-Peter’s feet, only for his own gaze to go wide underneath his Iron Man mask when the kid jumps eight feet straight up in the air to avoid it. 

_Okay, okay, so whoever this is, they also have some kind of powers. That doesn’t make him Peter, that doesn’t–_

“I promise you, I’m not dead,” Not-Peter says wearily as he lands back on the ground, looking extremely worn out beneath the panic, even exhausted. “It wasn’t the Sickness, it was some injection, and—and it was Beck! He was the one who did it, and maybe he wanted to really kill me but it didn’t work and–”

“Nice try, but your intel is off, asshole,” Tony responds. “Beck is dead, just like Peter.”

Not-Peter shakes his head vehemently. “No, he’s not, I thought so too—we all did—but he’s alive! I saw him, right before he got me with, with whatever it was he used!” He takes a shuddering breath, looking halfway to passing out as he adds, “I think even now it’s still affecting me, I feel dizzy and tired and like my strength is–”

“No, we’re done here,” Tony says, another flare of anger threading through his soul and blocking the imposter’s attempts to dissuade him. “If you won’t explain who you are or why you’re doing this, then I have no choice.”

Not-Peter shakes his head again as Tony raises both gauntlets, aiming for him. His gaze is open and pleading as he says, “No, please, Mr. Stark, I swear it’s me, you _know_ me! It’s me, It’s Peter, I _swear_ it’s me. Please, don’t do this!”

Tony closes his eyes, feeling his arms shaking as he flinches against his will. It sounds so much like Peter, could it really–?

After a few moments he drops his arms with a sigh. “I can’t… I can’t do it. I can’t kill you.”

Not-Peter takes a deep breath, eyes closing in relief. His voice sounds dry and cracked when he says, “So you know it’s me then. You know–”

“Sentry mode,” Tony says in an emotionless voice, the suit immediately unwrapping from around him, only to reassemble into a tall stance a few feet away. Before he can change his mind he continues, “Engage No Mercy Protocol.”

“What?” Not-Peter asks, sounding nervous. “What’s–”

A uni-beam shoots out from the center of the suit’s chest, Tony watching as Not-Peter jumps into the air again only to land on the side of the alley’s brick wall, sticking to it with his bare hands even as it looks like it takes real effort. Once again Tony feels a small spark of confusion followed shortly by hope, only to snuff it out just as fast, sneering as he watches the imposter more or less fall back to the ground, unable to keep up the obvious charade for long.

Not-Peter looks around frantically to make sure nobody saw him stick to the wall even as he dodges more repulsor beams, shouting, “Mr. Stark, stop! You know me, and I don’t know how but whatever he put in me, it made me seem dead, or maybe I even was dead for a while, I don’t _know_ but it’s me, it’s— _ah!”_

Not-Peter hisses as a repulsor beam clips his arm, not doing any lethal damage but Tony knows it must hurt. The imposter grabs at his bleeding limb, wincing only to look up just as the suit aims another uni-beam, eyes going wide as he jumps right up into the air for a third time, this one just below the fire escape—the suit overcorrecting and aiming just a tiny bit too high, the beam dislodging the stairs and blasting it outward away from the wall. The large contraption flies up into the air only for it to begin to plummet straight down, hundreds of pounds of warped metal poised to land right where Tony is standing.

Even as he looks up in horror Tony instinctively crouches, putting his hands up over his head to shield himself. But he knows it’s futile, there’s no way he’s not going to get hit, probably die, and god what an _idiot_ he was, what a damned idiot, he should have just taken the imposter in, should have done anything but set his suit to ruthlessly attack in the middle of a damn residential neighborhood of all places, and god, what about his family, what about–

The fire escape never lands. 

With a sharp breath Tony lowers his arms, opening his eyes only to gasp at the sight before him.

Directly above him stands Peter, his entire body shaking, face red from strain as he holds up the entire fire escape over Tony, keeping it from crushing him. The look in his eyes—the love and concern so clear even when intermingled with incredible pain and exhaustion—breaks down every one of the walls in Tony’s heart in an instant, leaving his soul equal parts bared and hopeful.

“P-Peter?” he gasps out. _Peter, you’re here, you’re alive, thank god, not dead, not dead, ALIVE–_

Out of the corner of his eye Tony sees the suit once more pointing repulsors at the teenager, quickly yelling out, “Disengage protocol _now!”_

The suit goes dark and quiet, arms dropping as it falls back into Sentry Mode. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers.

Tony's gaze slowly creeps back to him, still having trouble believing his eyes and ears as he responds, “Yeah, Pete?” 

“Please… get out… of the way.”

“Okay, yeah, okay, no problem,” Tony stammers out, body numb with disbelief and awe even as he crawls on his hands and knees from out beneath the kid, head swiveling around just in time to see Peter drop the fire escape to the cracked pavement with a grunt.

Tony scrambles to his feet, ignoring everything but the boy in front of him as he puts his hands on Peter’s shoulders, twisting the teen around to look at him. “Peter? But–but how?”

“Dunno,” Peter whispers, only for his eyes to droop even as a small smile graces his lips. Again he asks, “Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“‘M gonna pass out now,” Peter mumbles, just before his eyes roll back in his head, body going totally limp. Tony catches his folding limbs with a squawk of surprise, the two of them collapsing into a sprawl across the pavement, Tony somehow managing to keep Peter’s head and torso safely protected against his chest.

“Shit, kid,” Tony whispers into Peter’s hair as they lay there, quickly checking his pulse and breath sounds before letting out a long, steadying breath of his own.

He’ll get the kid back to the tower soon, get him checked out, but just for a moment, he needs, he needs to–

Tony pulls Peter closer, wrapping his arms gently around the unconscious boy, just letting himself take in this sudden new reality he’s miraculously stepped into, feeling a tear trace down his face.

The self-hatred for what he almost did to the kid would come soon and Tony knows when it does it will be momentous, a black inkblot on his heart that won’t easily be removed. But in this moment, all he feels is a deep well of grief being filled once more with dreams and hope and a future he’d thought stolen away from them all. 

The furious emotional whiplash as he finally, truly accepts that Peter isn’t dead—is here and alive and with Tony—is more than enough to overtake him, to send him over the edge, and the one tear quickly turns into two, then five.

With Peter breathing in his arms—his heart rate slowing with unconsciousness but remaining steady, beating, _alive—_ Tony lowers his cheek to the boy’s hair, and lets everything go.

* * *

When Peter wakes a second time, it’s nothing like the first.

He comes to slowly, wincing slightly before turning his head - only to feel a gentle touch across his forehead and the relieved sigh of someone next to him.

“He’s waking up.”

“Thank god. I can’t believe I nearly—“

“But you didn’t,” Peter hears her whisper, only for both of them to go silent when Peter’s eyes start to flutter.

“Wha—“

“Peter?” May whispers, the brokenness in her voice motivating him to cling to consciousness, using all his strength to open his eyes. 

His gaze falls on May first and he sees an undeniable relief there, tears springing up in her eyes as she brings the hand down from his forehead to cup his cheek.

“Hi sweetheart,” May says before she sobs, Peter smiling at her only for May to pull him into a hug - Peter burrowing his head into her neck and closing his eyes. 

Only to open them and see the simultaneous relief and guilt in Tony’s eyes over May’s shoulder as she squeezes him tight and whispers, “I thought… we thought—“

“I’m so sorry,” Peter whispers to her while still looking at Tony, hoping it conveys what he feels to the both of them before May leans back and stares at him—bringing both hands to cradle his face.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Peter says, May kissing him on the forehead and going to sit back. But even seated next to him, she has his hand in a tight grip, her other gently trailing across his arm as if to verify that it’s really him as Tony clears his throat.

“Kid, I–“

“It’s okay,” Peter says. “I’m okay.”

Tony looks as if he doesn’t quite want to accept it, guilt still building behind his eyes before he exhales and looks down, Peter sitting up slightly as he asks, “So what happened? Or how did he—what was I injected with?”

“Good question,” Tony says, looking exhausted and as if he’s aged ten years in however long Peter’s been out of it. “We took a sample of your blood and ran some tests, but they weren’t conclusive. Bruce says it looks similar to some compound that SHIELD had back in the day called Tetrodotoxin B, but ramped up far beyond what even they ever thought to use it for.”

Peter nods, then lips thinning, “And Beck? Did he get away?”

May and Tony share a look before Tony says, “We didn’t even know it was him until you told me in the alley, Pete. We thought—because of the anniversary…”

“That it was the Soul Stone Sickness,” Peter finishes. Tony nods grimly, May squeezing Peter’s hand in response as he continues, “I don’t know if that’s what he planned or not but it’s—it was perfectly timed, so probably.” Peter’s stomach drops, a sudden fear gripping him. “Until he ambushed me on the roof I thought it was over—that he died in London.”

“So did we,” Tony says, rubbing a hand over his face, looking thoroughly displeased at having been fooled by his old employee. “And that piece of shit hasn’t said _anything_ —probably still wants everyone to believe he’s dead, at least until he makes his next move. Not so much as a peep even when the news broke out.”

“The news?” Peter asks, May running her thumb over his palm.

“Sweetheart, it wasn’t just us who thought… the entire _world_ thinks Spider-Man is dead.”

Peter sits up, eyes dancing between Tony and May in confusion as his mouth feels dry. “I don’t understand. Did you guys announce it? How did they…?”

Tony clears his throat, Peter noticing just how red-rimmed his eyes still were as he continues, “I was the one who found you, after. I wasn’t thinking at the time and because of that I wasn’t as, as careful as I should have been transferring you back to the tower.”

Understanding floods through Peter, nodding a few times as his mind races to connect the dots, hating the picture that forms in his mind. He can too easily imagine the footage surely plastered on every news website of a sobbing Iron Man clutching a limp Spider-Man as he flies him over the city, and decides then and there that he never wants to see the videos, not if he can help it. Peter feels a new surge of anger at Beck for the grief he’d caused everyone Peter loves, only for it to be immediately set aside when a new thought occurs to him.

“Does this mean I can’t be Spider-Man anymore?” Peter asks, thinking of the last time Beck had tried to ruin his life. “Does—does everyone know that _I’m_ Spider-Man?”

“No, sweetheart. We--” May says, clearing her throat as Peter looks to her. “The city’s having a public memorial, in a few days. We were going to tell everyone then who you were.” 

Peter releases a relieved breath just as a tear escapes May’s eye even as she keeps smiling, her voice filled with awe as she continues, “But you’re _here_ . You’re—you’re _alive.”_

“But then everyone still thinks I’m dead then? Ned? MJ?” Peter asks, dread pooling in his gut that his best friend and girlfriend could still be grieving for him.

“It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it out. All of it,” May says definitively, Tony nodding beside her. “We’ll figure out a way to tell them, I promise. But right now, all that matters is that we’re together, and you’re okay.”

She loosens her grip in his hand, instead bringing her hands to cradle his face— eyes brimming with tears as she says, “I still can’t believe it. You’re really _here_.”

She pulls him into another tight hug, and something catches in Peter’s throat just then, guilt swelling once more at the thought that he’d put May through the worst kind of hell for however long he’d been, for all intents and purposes, dead. It was a memory that he knew would always stay with her, and Peter burrows his head into her shoulder for a few moments in silent apology only to glance up at Tony - seeing him wipe at his own eyes, a sniffle escaping him. 

“Stark, get your ass over here,” May says in a muffled voice, clearly having heard the small noise despite the hug she has Peter tightly encased in. Tony lets out a sharp laugh before doing what he’s told, Peter closing his eyes as he’s enveloped by the both of them, sighing as he simply lets himself be held.

Beck’s still out there, still knows his _identity—_ worry of what the man could do with that information nipping at Peter’s mind, even as he’s unbelievably glad that whatever the villain had done to him hadn’t been enough to end him. It doesn’t make his current predicament of having to explain being back from the dead any easier, but the fact that he _is_ alive at all - and that May and Tony know the truth - finally gives Peter the chance to relax and trust that no matter what happens next, May was right.

As long as they’re together, it would all be okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> We love it when people scream at us in the comments. Come hang out with blondsak on [tumblr](https://blondsak.tumblr.com). Seekrest prefers good vibes or carrier pigeons.


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